


ease my mind

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, gratuitous tropes that you thought you left behind in 2005, mild size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Shiro isn’t the jealous type.It’s an ugly emotion, one that he tries to push down any time he feels it bubbling.  He’s got no real reason to feel it anyways because at the end of the day, he trusts Keith and Keith is unequivocally his.“Are you sure?” Keith’s voice is amused, breathless. “Because it seems like you’re kind of jealous.”Shiro grunts in return and sinks his teeth further into the corded muscle of Keith’s shoulder.





	ease my mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helvetious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helvetious/gifts).

> for my darling [andy](https://twitter.com/pejaposarambi) i love u baby mwah

Shiro isn’t the jealous type.

It’s an ugly emotion, one that he tries to push down any time he feels it bubbling. He’s got no real reason to feel it anyways because at the end of the day, he trusts Keith and Keith is unequivocally his. 

“Are you sure?” Keith’s voice is amused, breathless. “Because it seems like you’re kind of jealous.”

Shiro grunts in return and sinks his teeth further into the corded muscle of Keith’s shoulder. Keith’s knuckles go white from how hard he’s clenching his fists against the sofa cushions. Shiro moves in Keith with shallow thrusts, sweat beading at his temples as he tries to appear like he’s somewhat collected, if not calm. 

Keith might have a point—they barely made it past the door into their quarters before Shiro’s Altean hand snaked itself around Keith’s waist and latched onto his hip with a vice grip. Shiro is a simple man; wherever his giant robot hand goes, he must follow, especially when it wants to push Keith over their sofa, rug biting their knees. 

Maybe he does owe Keith an answer. Shiro lets go and runs his tongue over the bite mark, soothing Keith before he presses a wet kiss to the crook of his neck. Keith’s hair is falling apart from his braid and Shiro’s yet again taken by how utterly handsome he is. 

He voices as much and Keith gives a low, raspy laugh coloured with embarrassment. The sound sends sparks fettering down Shiro and he feels sweet for a moment, feels the warm, honey-like love that’s so innate between them. And then Keith grinds back, does something with his hips that has Shiro uttering a low moan. 

“You looked like you wanted to kill that delegate,” Keith sounds smug. Like he’s got Shiro’s feelings both figured out and cornered. “What was their name again?”

Keith’s talking too much, so Shiro drops all his weight down on Keith again. He pins him with his whole body and snaps forward with his hips hard enough to sink all the way in til the hilt. The yelp Keith gives out has Shiro grinning against his neck as he mutters a, “Don’t remember.”

But he does remember the bright glint in their eye as they hovered around Keith the entire night. Shiro would have stayed if he had not been constantly been pulled away to greet one general or shake hands with another, as is the case in most intergalactic diplomatic events the Garrison hosts. As the leader of Voltron and a senior member of the Blades, Keith gets paraded around a lot too. But this time his new friend, a visitor from a solar system around eight light-years away, had trailed behind him wherever Keith got dragged. 

Shiro had been ok with that too, for a good half of the night. Keith’s laziness in starting conversation comes off as enigmatic to others and sometimes he collects hanger-ons that are awed by the mystery he presents. But most don’t place their hand on Keith’s lower back and lean in to whisper that they’ll get them both another drink while Shiro watches from ten feet away, ignoring whatever an Arusian prince is blathering on about. 

Keith had shot Shiro a bemused "_what the hell just happened" _look and Shiro dutifully excused himself from the conversation at hand to go check in on him. But when the other delegate returned, Shiro’s presence was entirely ignored in favour of them showering compliment after compliment on Keith, from his hair to his flying skills to the way his Blades suit fit him. 

At one point, the delegate had snaked their arm around Keith’s waist while telling him a particularly unfunny anecdote. To add insult to injury, they had rested their arm on top of the one Shiro had already wrapped around his husband. 

Shiro nips at Keith’s cheek and Keith turns his head enough that Shiro can capture his lips in a slow kiss. He grinds forward and hooks both his hands in the junction of Keith’s thighs. 

“Shiro–_ ah_,” Keith groans against his mouth. “Mo– _ oh _– re, you can give me more-“

Shiro tilts Keith’s hips up just enough to change the angle, keeps it slow and languid even as his brain is chanting at him to take and take and take. To give in to whatever Keith needs. But he wants to draw it out too, wants to tease Keith as he takes him, wants to make sure he’s branded as much of Keith as he possibly can. 

He’s loathe to admit it but a red haze had settled over Shiro that grew stronger with every passing moment the delegate had spent sweet-talking Keith. He kept telling himself that Keith deserved attention and praise, even if their new acquaintance was delivering it with the same sly tone Shiro uses when he locks the two of them in a control room. 

So. It might be a little immature but—yeah. 

It might have been the motivation behind Shiro calling it an early night due to a sudden headache and dragging an extremely amused Keith back with him. It might also have been the fuel behind him practically tearing off Keith’s clothes as soon as they had entered their quarters. It might be why Keith’s black tunic actually _ is _ torn down the centre because by the time they had gotten rid of the armour and the quilted vest and the ceremonial wrist guards, a primal urge to claim was burning through Shiro like wildfire. 

An urge that’s still burning through him now as he makes Keith quietly moan into the sofa cushion. Shiro doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. He knows he doesn’t actually have as much control as he likes to think he does. Especially when Keith’s so pliant beneath him, so wet and open and complacent. And impatient, from the way he tries to rock back against Shiro. 

Shiro tightens his hold, stilling Keith and the next sound Keith makes is one of flat out frustration. It’s somehow more delicious than the ones he had been making earlier. 

“Patience,” he says and feels Keith try to push up underneath him. Shiro eases up just enough to give Keith a false sense of victory before he flattens out over his back again, pressing them both against the sofa. 

Keith grunts and Shiro feels his muscles shift underneath as Keith tries to move, feels heat radiate off of him. Shiro reaches to stroke Keith with his human hand, soft and barely there. His Altean hand remains on Keith’s hip, firm and preventing him from rolling forward into Shiro’s touch. 

“Shiro—“ Keith half-moans, desperation starting to creep into his voice. “Shiro please—“

He trails off as Shiro strokes him again, torturously slow. Shiro’s hips have almost come to a stop but he’s never felt a stronger, more overwhelming urge to completely devour Keith.

And the more animal part of him has never felt a stronger urge to make it known that he’s the only one that can. 

“Please what?” Shiro asks, his tone coming out a lot rougher than he expected. Keith makes another pleading noise into the fabric but it’s not enough. “Use your words, baby.”

The tips of Keith’s ears go red and he buries his face. Shiro knows Keith would just need a little more goading into giving in and begging dirty just the way that Shiro likes. Knows that Keith will tell him things that’ll soothe whatever beast has reared its head within him. Shiro plants one hand beside Keith’s head and wraps Keith’s braid around the other. Shiro pulls out halfway and yanks Keith’s head up by his hair, Keith letting out a surprised gasp in return. 

“You want more?” Shiro practically purrs and Keith nods frantically against Shiro’s grip. “Want me to give you more?”

“_Y__es_,” Keith hisses and god, Shiro can’t get enough of the sight of Keith, lean and battle-honed beneath him, hard edges and lithe body holding powerhouse energy. The idea that anyone even thought they could bypass Shiro and get this— he will fight tooth and nail for this man, and will _ always _ come out victorious. 

Shiro thrusts forward, hard enough to send them both shifting up the rug and into the sofa. Keith keens loudly and slams his own hands down in front of him to brace himself. Shiro withdraws and does it again, and again and again.

“Is this what you wanted me to do?” Shiro grunts, pulling Keith’s head back further till his spine’s arching as much as it can. 

And somehow, Keith manages to snark back, even as Shiro works him over. 

“I think this is what you- _ fuck _ \- ah, I think this is what _ you _ wanted to do,” Keith says, half the bite taken out by his moans and yelps. “Since you spent the entire evening so— _ christ_, so jealous.”

”Not jealous,” Shiro says through gritted teeth, giving Keith’s hair another tug. “Just annoyed someone-_ ah_, was bothering you.”

He can tell there’s another smart ass answer on Keith’s lips so he lets go of Keith’s hair and pushes his head down into the sofa, pinning him that way as he fucks forward harder. Keith’s shaking underneath him and Shiro slides his hand under so that he can stroke him fast and hard. 

As soon as he feels Keith contract underneath him, feels the telltale shudder that stacks through his thighs, Shiro lets go of his head. Keith shoots up and gasps as he comes around him with a garbled out groan that shapes itself around Shiro’s name. 

Shiro closes his Altean hand around Keith’s throat and pulls him up against his body, snapping his hips fast and shallow till he’s also finishing, spilling messy inside. He bites Keith’s shoulder again as he rides it out and Keith grasps at his hand, fingers barely able to wrap around the thick metal wrist. Shiro feels pressure and lets Keith push his hand further against his throat while Shiro stutters inside him.

Finally, Shiro lets go, works his arm out of Keith’s grasp and releases him completely. Keith flops forward onto the couch with pleased noise and Shiro tries to get his panting under control as he slowly pulls out. Keith sucks his breath in and Shiro runs his left hand over his lower back. He leans down to press a kiss to the nape of Keith’s neck, gentle this time. Keith lets out a content hum underneath him and reaches back to tug on Shiro’s hair.

Shiro complies, pressing a chaste kiss to Keith’s cheek before he helps Keith onto the couch. He tries to slide in beside him but Keith manhandles them both till he’s on his back and Shiro is draped along his front. They’re both sweaty and sticky and running hot like a furnace but Shiro buries his face into Keith’s neck as Keith wraps his arms around him.

“Maybe I was a little jealous,” Shiro mumbles, hoping Keith doesn’t hear him. It’s to no avail because he feels Keith’s chest rumble underneath him with a laugh. The word still tastes weird in his mouth but Shiro thinks if he calls himself possessive, then he’s truly going to sound like a caveman. “Sorry.”

“I like it,” Keith replies, shifting underneath Shiro. Shiro raises his head up to look at Keith. 

“I think you’re enjoying this too much,” Shiro grumbles, and Keith pulls him in for a kiss. It’s a firm press of the lips, chaste in counterpoint to what they’ve just done.

“I can’t think of why I wouldn’t,” Keith hums against his lips, giving Shiro a shit-eating grin. “I should find more people to flirt with me.”

Shiro rolls his eyes but grabs at Keith’s jaw, holding it still as he dips in for another kiss. He makes this one wet and filthy, licking into Keith’s mouth as Keith tries to tell him something. Shiro swallows his words up, bites Keith’s lower lip before sliding his tongue in. 

It’s fine if he’s a little jealous, Shiro tells himself as he hitches one of Keith’s legs around him. He pulls back to look at the bruises littered across Keith, knowing Keith’s going to return them with equal fervor. They have no interest in anyone but each other but— there’s no harm in making sure that others know that as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> lets talk niche sheith headcanons on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/tagteamme) or [tumblr](https://phaltu.tumblr.com/)


End file.
